


All Roads Lead To You

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is oblivious (until he's not), Crowley pines, Feelings, Get Together, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, rescuing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 08:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19147447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: It had taken Aziraphale quite some time to find the presence he had been looking for, but here he was, in the Reptile House of the London Zoo.As an angel, Aziraphale shouldn’t have been finding amusement in the discomfort of another, but he couldn’t help but do so as he was glared at by a very familiar snake.“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, “how ever did you end up in this situation?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I rewrote it a little (mostly the ending), but here is the 'even more ridiculous' ten-year-old Good Omens fic! *jazz hands*
> 
> Also, please do not spoil me for the TV series as I haven't seen it yet.

** All Roads Lead To You **

****

** Chapter One **

It had taken Aziraphale quite some time to find the presence he had been looking for, but here he was, in the Reptile House of the London Zoo.

As an angel, Aziraphale shouldn’t have been finding amusement in the discomfort of another, but he couldn’t help but do so as he was glared at by a very familiar snake.

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, “how ever did you end up in this situation?”

The snake continued his embarrassed glaring, and nosed the pane of glass between them in a very pointed way.

Aziraphale had been concerned when he hadn’t seen Crowley for a while. He’d been even more concerned to discover that Crowley’s flat had apparently been abandoned, the plants wilting in their pots, and as a result had done his best to track the missing demon down.

How Crowley had ended up as an exhibit in the London Zoo, Aziraphale couldn’t imagine.

Well, he _could_ … but those scenarios seemed so very unlikely, and he had no doubt that the true tale would be far more interesting.

Entertaining, even.

But the snake was still nosing at the glass, and had acquired an expectant air.

“I can’t let you out just like that,” said Aziraphale, reading Crowley’s body language without any trouble. “Imagine the panic when they realise that one of their animals is missing.”

Crowley didn’t seem to be able to talk right at this moment, but words were unnecessary. His expression said everything it needed to.

_ You’d bloody better, angel. _

__

Aziraphale sighed.

“”I’ll be back presently,” he assured the serpent, and went off to sort something out.

He returned half an hour later to remove the glowering snake from its enclosure. Crowley coiled around his neck in a very relieved fashion, hid his head in Aziraphale’s shirt, and promptly went to sleep.

Aziraphale would never have mentioned it to Crowley, of course, but privately he found the demon’s actions adorable.

* * *

Back at Crowley’s flat, Aziraphale unwound the snake from his neck and placed him on Crowley’s bed. As Crowley gazed at him sleepily, Aziraphale began examining him, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

After about a minute, Aziraphale found what he was looking for.

One of Crowley’s scales was an unnatural burnished copper in colour instead of black, and when Aziraphale looked even closer, he could just make out the faintest of markings. Ah. One of _those_ , then.

“I’m afraid that this is going to hurt,” the angel told the serpent, with some regret.

The snake only shot him a look. 

_ Better get on with it, then. _

Aziraphale got a sharp knife from the kitchen, and cut a neat incision into the snake’s skin, pulling the copper scale free.

There was a hiss of pain from Crowley, and then a moment after that, the demon assumed his usual human-like form.

Wincing, Crowley rubbed at one blistered wrist, and glared at what was sitting in Aziraphale’s hand. What had been a copper scale was now a copper wrist-cuff, engraved with ancient symbols of power.

“Are you quite alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale felt a twinge of worry.

“M’fine,” said Crowley, collapsing back onto the bed and closing his eyes. “One of those bastards got the drop on me. Thought it would be funny to leave me in the zoo for everyone to gawk at.”

“I see.”

“I was afraid I was going to be stuck there for ages before I could get myself free,” Crowley continued. One yellow eye opened a tiny bit, regarding Aziraphale’s anxious countenance. He added in a different tone, “Thanks, angel.”

Aziraphale beamed at him, because Crowley very rarely thanked Aziraphale for anything. 

“Think nothing of it, my dear.”

The next moment Crowley glared at the cuff still in Aziraphale’s hand, and it spontaneously burst into flames.

Aziraphale yelped and dropped the cuff, where it melted into a puddle of molten metal.

“Really Crowley, you might have warned me before summoning _hellfire_ ,” said Aziraphale, because his fingers were already blistering.

To Aziraphale’s surprise, Crowley gently took his hand and looked at the blistering skin.

A moment later, Crowley let Aziraphale’s hand fall, something very like shame on his face.

“Sorry, angel. I wasn’t thinking.”

For an instant yellow eyes looked up into blue ones, frankly contrite, before their gaze flicked away again.

Something unnamed stirred in Aziraphale at the unmasked contrition he had seen in Crowley’s eyes.

The demon was a being of many expressions – smugness, anger, malicious pleasure, spite, irritation, and unholy glee being the most common – but just for a moment, Aziraphale had seen something in his eyes that was honest and untainted.

“It’s alright,” said Aziraphale.

“No it isn’t,” Crowley muttered, looking away. “You recue me and I go and burn your bloody fingers off with hellfire. You’re too soft, angel.”

“If that was meant as an apology, it should have contained fewer insults.”

Crowley stood up suddenly.

“Why do you _care_ , anyway? What’s it matter to you if I rot in a zoo for years? I’m a demon, remember?”

Aziraphale blinked at him.

“You’d do the same for me,” he protested. He was quite confident of this, because he knew Crowley, and for all that he pretended to be a typical demon, Crowley was... different.

_ Unique _ , Aziraphale thought, and a wave of affection washed over him.

Crowley hesitated.

“Well…”

Aziraphale fixed him with an expectant stare.

“Oh, all right, I _would_ ,” confessed Crowley, looking wretched at the admission. “Although there would be a lot more smirking and taunting involved, on my end.”

“I have always said, my dear–” Aziraphale began, and for some reason that was when Crowley blew up.

“I am not _good_ , deep down or not! I know you like to think I am, but I am being of evil and malice and the sooner you get that through your head the better, angel!”

And Aziraphale found himself being pushed out of Crowley’s bedroom and the door slammed in his face.

He stared at the door, dumbfounded.

“Crowley?” he finally ventured.

But the demon didn’t respond, and eventually Aziraphale showed himself out of the demon’s flat, wondering what _that_ had been all about.


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter Two **

Aziraphale didn’t see Crowley for days. There was no doubt, Aziraphale knew, that something was wrong. But _what?_

He stopped by Crowley’s flat several times, but the demon was either never in or was pretending to be out. Aziraphale even left a couple of messages on Crowley’s newfangled answering machine, desperate to know what had upset his friend so much; but Crowley returned neither of them.

Aziraphale tried stopping by the Ritz. Crowley wasn’t there either. Finally, in desperation, he went to St James Park, where he and Crowley often fed the ducks.

There he found Crowley, drunker than he had ever seen the demon in the last six thousand years of existence.

He didn’t realise it was Crowley at first. But there was a figure in a suit sitting on the grass, slumped against a park bench, watching the ducks. It was only when Aziraphale moved closer that he realised who he was looking at.

Aziraphale was stunned by the state of him. Crowley’s usually impeccably-pressed suit was crumpled and stained, one of his shoes was missing, and his hair was mussed. Where Crowley’s sunglasses had gone Aziraphale didn’t know, but his yellow eyes were horribly bloodshot.

However, it was Crowley’s expression that was the most distressing sight. He was watching the ducks with a look of pained dejection that struck Aziraphale as most un-Crowley-like.

“Crowley?” 

Crowley’s head turned sideways. To Aziraphale’s horrified astonishment, the moment that his gaze settled on Aziraphale, Crowley’s expression turned to one of abject misery.

All Aziraphale could think was, _what have I done?_

What could he possibly have said to put Crowley into such a terrible state, and not even know it?

As Aziraphale stared at him, Crowley’s eyes closed.

“Go away, angel,” he said, with the distinct enunciation of someone who was trying very hard not to slur their speech due to the effects of alcohol.

The words hurt more than Aziraphale would have thought they would.

He crouched down in front of the sitting demon, so that they were nearly eye-to-eye. Or would have been, if Crowley’s eyes weren’t still closed.

“Crowley, _please_ ,” Aziraphale begged, barely above a whisper. “Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

A myriad of expression crossed Crowley’s face in quick succession, each and every one of them complicated.

Finally he said, his voice weary: “You don’t want to know.”

“If it is tormenting you so? I _do_. Tell me. Please.”

Crowley blinked bleary yellow eyes at him, and Aziraphale leaned in a little closer, to better hear whatever Crowley was about to say.

But Crowley only said, “Alright,” and then –

And then –

Aziraphale’s brain short-circuited for a long moment. But as his faculties assured him that yes _,_ Crowley’s mouth was still pressed to his and _this was actually happening_ , Crowley pulled back, with mingled relief and guilt in his gaze.

“Now you know,” he mumbled, and promptly passed out on the grass.

Aziraphale stared down at Crowley in stunned consternation, his heart beating a tattoo inside his ribs, and he wondered what he ought to do now.

* * *

In the end, Aziraphale brought Crowley back in a taxi to the bookshop, carrying him upstairs to the small flat above the shop. He stripped off Crowley’s muddy trousers and jacket, and tucked him into the single bed, tremendously relieved to find that Crowley was wearing underwear. A lack of it could only have further complicated the situation, at this point.

That done, Aziraphale went downstairs, made himself a cup of tea, and promptly forgot about it as he took a seat in the kitchen and thought harder than he’d ever thought in his life.

He should have been panicking, Aziraphale thought, but instead he could only think, _why didn’t Crowley tell me?_ Because an angel could tell the difference between lust and love perfectly well, and while there had been some of the former in the kiss, even in his drunken state the demon had been nearly brimming over with the latter. 

Love had positively radiated from him, and in that moment, Aziraphale could only curse himself for a fool for not seeing it earlier. How could he not have _noticed_ all the love that Crowley held for him?

_ But then, one doesn’t expect a demon to be capable of the higher forms of sentiment,  _ Aziraphale tried to tell himself, but it was no use. He’d known for millennia now, that demon or not, Crowley’s _heart_ was good. His soul, if he’d had one, might have been a little tarnished, but… well. Aziraphale…

Aziraphale loved him all the same for it. Not _despite_ the tarnished bits, but _for_ them, just as much as he loved Crowley for the spark of goodness at his core. Because he wouldn’t have been Crowley, otherwise, and Aziraphale couldn’t bear it if he became anything else.

Aziraphale let out a deep breath.

__

There was no point in lying to himself or anyone else about it. He loved Crowley, and it was about time he went and admitted it.

* * *

Crowley slept for twelve hours. Aziraphale spent those twelve hours waiting, his mind made up.

So it was that he was quite calm when Crowley finally staggered down the stairs the next morning, and stood in the doorway, staring at Aziraphale. His suit was once again in pristine condition, although the same couldn’t be said of Crowley.

Aziraphale coughed.

“Sober up, please.”

Crowley winced, but complied. He winced again as the full impact of his actions burst into his now un-inebriated mind.

“Angel, I can explain–”

But Aziraphale cut him off.

“How long, Crowley?”

Crowley slumped.

“I don’t know,” he said, and Aziraphale could tell that he was being completely, unhappily honest. “All I know is that one day I realised that I – that _you_ –” 

Crowley broke off, and closed his eyes. But he continued speaking.

“You’re such a prat sometimes, with your turtleneck jumpers and carefully hoarded first editions, and the way you sip your tea with your pinkie finger stuck out like a little old lady, and… well, those and a thousand other things. You’re just so bloody _good_ , most of the time, but you can be a bit of a bastard if anyone has done something to deserve it, and… you’re _you_ ,” Crowley finished helplessly, as though he didn’t know how to explain his love any other way.

Crowley’s eyes were screwed shut, as though he couldn’t bear even to look at Aziraphale for fear of the smiting that he seemed to be sure was coming. Which was why he missed the look of joy that took over Aziraphale’s face.

“My dear,” said the angel, and then, “darling,” because it was true. At the word _darling_ Crowley’s eyelids fluttered open, and he stared, incredulous, at Aziraphale’s radiant smile.

“Did you think I would be angry, Crowley?”

“Aziraphale?” Crowley croaked. There was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, a slim thread of hope; but mostly, he was watching Aziraphale with wary incomprehension.

“Oh, you silly old serpent,” said Aziraphale, and his voice was filled with such fond affection that Crowley actually rocked back on his heels, looking flabbergasted. “As though I don’t love you too.”

“You – you do?” There was dawning wonder in Crowley’s face, the beginnings of a giddy smile that Aziraphale had never before seen on his face. But his eyes had lit up, looking almost golden in the early morning light.

“Of course,” said Aziraphale.

“So you don’t mind… that I…”

“Not at all,” said Aziraphale. And then, because Crowley seemed to need the hint: “And I don’t at all mind should you wish to do it again.”

There was a moment of silence.

“ _Oh_ ,” murmured Crowley, and slowly he closed the space between them. He took Aziraphale’s face in his hands, looking at him as though memorising every detail of Aziraphale’s countenance: and then, finally, he kissed him. 

It would have been nearly chaste, as kisses went, if it hadn’t been for the wealth of emotion behind the gesture. 

By the time they parted, Aziraphale’s heart was beating wildly.

He gave Crowley what he suspected was a rather silly smile, but Crowley’s own was just as ridiculously goofy.

“I never thought…” Crowley began, and then said, “I do love you, angel.”

“And I you, my dear. Even though at present you still smell rather like a brewery.”

Crowley grinned, but Aziraphale could see the vague embarrassment beneath.

“Well, you’re an angel,” said Crowley, as though that explained everything. “How was I supposed to know I stood a chance?”

Aziraphale hesitated, because if you gave Crowley an inch he’d take a mile; but–

“As though I could possibly feel anything else where you are concerned,” said Aziraphale, and Crowley smiled, his eyes bright and shining with a joy that Aziraphale shared.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but think that if it meant seeing _that_ expression on Crowley’s face more often, he’d happily tell Crowley exactly what he meant to him, as many times as the demon wanted to hear it. 

“My dear,” he said fondly, and nothing more: but Crowley seemed to understand perfectly.


End file.
